


Gavin Free's Enviable Ability to Sleep off Hangovers

by everybodylies



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 03:25:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everybodylies/pseuds/everybodylies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first thing Michael notices when he forces his eyes open is the fact that he's in his own bed. That's a good start.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gavin Free's Enviable Ability to Sleep off Hangovers

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Potions Let's Play where Michael basically had to follow Gavin around and fight all his fights for him <3

"Michael? … Miiiiichael?"

The most annoying thing about Gavin Free, or rather, just one of the many annoying things about Gavin Free is his enviable ability to sleep off a hangover in a few hours and wake up completely refreshed. It probably has something to with the way the man is constantly hyper, constantly energized all the time.

"Michael?"

The first thing Michael notices when he forces his eyes open is the fact that he's in his own bed. That's a good start. At least they'd made it home after that trainwreck of a night.

The second thing he notices is Gavin, crouched by his bedside, with a bag of frozen peas in his hand and such a pathetic, worried expression on his face that Michael almost forgives him outright. Almost.

"What the fuck do you want, Gavin?" Michael shouts, because even a horrible, pounding headache can't stop the rage.

"Why've you got a black eye, Michael?"

Michael runs a hand over his face. "Great. You don't even fucking remember."

Gavin sticks out his bottom lip, wiggles it a little, and Michael sighs.

"You got into a fucking fight last night, Gavin."

Gavin raises an eyebrow. "Are you sure about that? Because it seems, from the looks of things, that you're the one who got into a fight."

As always, it's difficult to tell whether Gavin is being intentionally idiotic to be annoying or if he's just that plain stupid.

"Fucking christ. Fine, then, if you want to get _technical_ about it, you _almost_ got into a fight, and then I _got_ into a fight trying to bail you out."

Gavin's eyes widen as the memories come back to him. "That man was a quite a few centimeters taller than you," he says, amazed.

"He was," Michael agrees.

"And he was right minged off!"

"He was."

He can no longer remember what the argument was about (though, knowing Gavin, the drunk-off-his-ass Brit had probably hit on someone's girlfriend), but he can remember the man looking at Gavin, absolute fury in his eyes, rolling up his sleeves, and himself wishing Geoff and his hardcore tattoos or Burnie and his 6'2" height had come drinking with them.

But that night, it was just him and Gavin, and, well, he couldn't have Gavin's nose getting even more messed up than it already was, so Michael had rolled up his sleeves as well and stepped in.

"And that wanker punched you in the face?"

"He did, but don't worry, I got a few good ones on him, too. He's probably worse off than me, right now." It's not really a lie, seeing as he doesn't actually remember, and he'll just leave it at that.

Gavin's face breaks into a giant grin. He reaches for Michael, gives him some kind of awkward sideways hug, patting him warmly on the back and ruffling his hair.

"You're my boy, Michael! You're my boy."

Michael merely scowls, grabs the frozen peas, pulls his blanket over his head, and says, "Fuck off, Gavin."

It's only thirty minutes later, when Gavin returns, bearing a bizarre arrangement of waffles atop a bed of blueberries ("You've won the real-life Tower of Pimps, Michael!") that Michael allows himself a smile.


End file.
